The moment we brought Marcus into the lab, every second felt like a ticking bomb. His body was on the brink of collapse, while his breathing came in shallow, rattling gasps. There was no room for mistakes—his life was slipping away. With each strained breath, I knew the window to save him was rapidly closing.
Marcus's letter haunted me. The curse branded into the hearts of noble-born children, a twisted mark that consumed their sanity and left them nothing but lifeless puppets for the Crescent Moon's bidding. It was cruel beyond words, binding them to silence, stripping them of emotion, and turning them into perfect weapons of destruction. There were no exceptions—escape was impossible, and redemption even less likely.
But if we succeeded, Marcus would be free. He wouldn't just survive—he would live.
After months of working with my companions on blood purification and genetic implantation through alchemical methods, I knew what had to be done. This was the moment we had prepared for—the culmination of every bit of knowledge I had accumulated, every theory tested, and every sleepless night spent experimenting in the lab.
"We begin now," I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the task before us.
With painstaking care, we started by administering specially crafted alchemical potions to stabilize Marcus's battered body. His frame was collapse, muscles nearly wasted away, and his heart barely clung to life. Slowly, the potions did their work, reinvigorating what little strength remained within him, giving us a sliver of time to perform the purification.
The next step was far more delicate—the purification of his corrupted bloodline. His veins carried traces of demonic energy, remnants of years spent under the Crescent Moon's influence. We used newly invented magical tools, ones I had created with my friends, capable of filtering and neutralizing these vile residues. Each pulse of magic sent a flicker of relief through Marcus's body, inching him closer to stability.
Two weeks of relentless effort followed, our hands never still, our focus unwavering. The process demanded everything from us—physically, mentally, and emotionally. There were moments of setbacks, when Marcus's heart faltered and his body convulsed under the strain, but we persevered. The stakes were too high to fail.
When the moment finally arrived, I held my breath as we began the final stage—the implantation of the purified bloodline. This was our last chance. If it succeeded, Marcus would not only be saved from the curse but transformed into something new—a man unshackled by his past, with the potential to reclaim his future.
Every second felt like an eternity. March kept the tools steady, his precision unwavering, while Morrison monitored Marcus's vitals, his emerald aura flickering as he used subtle bursts of wind magic to help stabilize the energy flow. Mancil stood at the ready, potion vials in hand, prepared to intervene at the slightest sign of trouble.
**And then it happened—**a pulse of life surged through Marcus's body, the kind of energy that only freedom could bring. His breathing steadied, and the unnatural paleness began to leave his face. I felt the tension leave my shoulders as his eyelids twitched, showing the first signs of consciousness.
We had done it.
Marcus had made it back.
As his eyes slowly opened, I leaned over him, unable to hide the exhaustion and joy that warred within me. "Welcome back, Marcus," I whispered.
His lips parted into a weak, grateful smile. The weight of the curse that had bound him was gone—he was free.
With a heavy sigh, I collapsed into the nearest chair, every muscle in my body aching from the effort. But the exhaustion was tempered by the immense pride swelling within me. We had achieved the impossible. This was more than just saving Marcus—it was proof that the ancient limits binding this world could be broken.
March handed me a vial of water, and Morrison gave my shoulder a firm pat. "We did it," Morrison said, a grin spreading across his face. "He's free."
I allowed myself a brief moment of relief, my heart lighter than it had felt in months. "We'll give him time to rest," I said, my voice hoarse but steady. "When he's ready, we'll tell him everything."
I turned to Mancil. "Write to Fenix. Let him know that Marcus pulled through, thanks to his help."
Mancil nodded and left the room, and I let myself sink further into the chair. The weight of what we had accomplished began to settle over me—this wasn't just about Marcus. We had opened a door that had been locked for centuries. The implications were staggering. If we could apply this process to others, to people like Tomas and every orphan who had lost their lineage…
The world would never be the same again.
That night, after the others had gone to rest, I sat at my desk and pulled out parchment and ink. It was time to inform my grandfather.
I dipped the quill into the inkwell and began to write:
"Grandfather, the Crescent Moon's hand reached closer than we imagined. Marcus was their pawn—a victim of their cruelty. They forced him into an assassination plot against me, a plan born out of desperation and hatred for our family. But we've saved him. We broke the curse. He's free now, though the road to recovery will be long..."
I paused, considering my next words. A sly grin crept onto my face as I imagined my grandfather's reaction. He would be livid at the audacity of the Crescent Moon. Knowing him, he wouldn't rest until every last remnant of that wretched organization was wiped from the map.
"Do with this information what you will," I wrote with a smirk. "I trust your vengeance will be appropriately thorough."
I sealed the letter with the emblem of the Flower family and set it aside for delivery at first light. There would be no mercy for those who dared harm one of ours.
I lay back in bed, exhaustion pulling at me from every limb. The weight of the day pressed down on me, but for the first time in months, it was a good weight—the weight of accomplishment, of hope, and of change.
Staring at the ceiling, I couldn't help but smile. This was only the beginning. Something revolutionary had begun—a new era born from the union of science, magic, and willpower. And it was a future that we, my friends and I, would shape with our own hands.
As sleep finally took hold of me, I drifted off with one thought lingering in my mind:
"The world was about to change, and nothing would stand in our way."